


The Boy Who Swam Into The Lap of Buddha

by whaleofatime



Series: The boys who walk close together [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: China, M/M, Post Olympic Career, The Giant Buddha of Leshan, Why picture-taking can be a dangerous sport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whaleofatime/pseuds/whaleofatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a rare weekend off from an ecological survey of the Minjiang river, Haru takes Makoto to go see a giant statue of a man who is supposedly even more good-natured than Makoto. The quest for the perfect picture leads to much screaming and the facing of old fears in new ways, but all in all, what a damn good date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy Who Swam Into The Lap of Buddha

   The mildly mighty Minjiang river flows down from the mountains to course through the Sichuan province in China, and like the matriarch in a massive, overly-affectionate family, if she’s ill, everyone suffers. Haru doesn’t have any stakes in the matter; his house is in a totally different country, and even Makoto knows well enough to not drink river water raw (what a hard-earned lesson). But after the fish run in Beijing, former-Olympia current-biologist Haru finds time on his hands, as well as a laughing invitation from a fellow scientist based in Sichuan, asking if he was interested in helping with some freshwater ecology research in her hometown.

   Haru doesn’t have any stakes in the wellness of the Minjiang, but he has a bit of time left over on his visa, same with Makoto, and in a general sort of way Haru is always, always invested in the wellness of any large body of water.

   So he had gone up and up to the mountains, letting Makoto roam around in Chengdu, capital of the province, as he runs surveys, catching frogs and swimming (on and on and-). The phone reception? Is kinda patchy, but it’s worth a bit of hiking through the woods to higher ground, shaking his smartphone above his head while he swears a bit, to get that picture of a red-faced Makoto, all teary-eyed and trembling, kneeling on the ground and reaching out to press a reverent finger to the paw pad of a fuzzy little baby panda. Behind him is a smiling woman with wary eyes in the panda conservation park’s uniform, and Haru, Haru cannot get how she could look more into the panda than the man.

   Good god, fuck. Haru’s a marine biologist, and it is his unflappable opinion that the complete extinction of the Giant Panda probably won’t irreparably screw up the ecosystem the way a hell of a lot of less-cute but more-vital species could, but then and there, he sorta wants to invest what little he has left in the grant for his own research in buying Makoto the panda center.

   (Or at least just the one panda, to keep the goldfish company once they retrieve them from Ren and Ran.)

   (Sadly, the internet is a little quiet regarding how much one of those cute-as-hell bastards would go for, and he figures he would have needed a pair at least, just so that no one would get lonely).

   Before he curls into his sleeping bag that night, but after he pulls off a fat leech that leaves his jammers all bloody, Haru decides to take Makoto somewhere nice for the weekend.

   Lin screams when he sidles up to her by the camp fire the next morning while she’s making tea (because his white nightshirt looks like it came in 2 nd in a bloody knife fight), but once she’s assessed his lack of actual bodily injury, she says, oh, but how about Buddha?

   And Haru sees the light.

   (Leshan, my man, Leshan).

-

   Haru waits, a little anxiously, at Leshan Railway station. Makoto had sworn up and down, left to right, and then slid in some sexual favours to convince Haru that he definitely, definitely can get himself to Leshan from Chengdu by himself, no he will not stray from the very specific route Haru had texted him (courtesy of Lin), yes he will stay safe and keep a death grip on his belongings because while at the start of their trip to China Makoto’s sheer size had scared off most sticky-fingered people, by now China and her people have learned that stealing from Makoto can often be just as easy as asking with a suitably pitiful face.

   He Believes in Makoto, the way a god would probably hope their followers would, all whole-hearted devotion and unshakeable faith. The rest of the world, though? He isn’t one for making threats, but if he were to make them tea on the banks of the Minjiang, don’t expect him to boil the water first and then brew later. He also knows Makoto is a capable man, but the man goes along with Haru’s low-key worry with amiable good nature because he understands that Haru is sometimes not (capable).

   Take, for example;

   When Makoto got pickpocketed that first time in Beijing, he lost not that much yuan and a packet of gum.

   Haru? Haru had lost goddamn years off his life, probably. Taking things from Makoto shouldn’t be so easy. And Makoto shouldn’t be so cool about loss, and Makoto shouldn’t be tripping over himself to give things up-

   This particularly glum train of thoughts is interrupted when a cold can of soda is pressed to his forehead, and Haru doesn’t startle, just presses back a little harder, opening his eyes and seeing the red of a Coke can. He can’t stand the sweet carbonated stuff, but Makoto’s body-fluids are mostly sugar by now, so he’s made his peace with it (and a likely future of cooking diabetic-friendly desserts stuffed with chocolate, the foundation of which he has been building ever since Mr. Tachibana got diagnosed with it a couple of years back).

   Right now, to be honest, he’s all peace. Haru reaches behind the can to grasp the wrist, and hears in his head just a second before he hears in real life,

   “Hello, Haru-chan.”

   Can’t sweep away this smile off his face, not even with all the water that the Minjiang brings with her. Haru tightens his grip, moves the source of cool condensation, and finally gets a good look at Makoto.

   (Don’t need a boat ride to see Buddha, hey.)

-

   Since apparently Makoto has a harder time appreciating Haru's overtures than should be legal, Haru gives up the suggestion of just going straight to the hotel and blessing the ever-loving hell out of the mattress, and follows along as Makoto gets them tickets for the boat cruise up the river to go see the Giant Buddha of Leshan, a supposedly marvelous man carved into and resting within the cliffs that hem the river.

   “We can go climb up by it after. I just want to get a picture of you and the river and Buddha all in one frame first!” Makoto is sufficiently excited, enough to get over his concerns re: holding hands in public. They get stares still, here, home, everywhere, and Haru doesn’t push for more than tangling fingers. He maybe just… makes a bit of extra effort to dress extra androgynously when they’re out on dates.

   What’s the opposite of a double-edged sword?

   Something that brings goodness on both sides, obviously.

   Consider: a handy little thing with a mascara wand on one end and eyeliner on the other. Because Makoto doesn’t get stared at unpleasantly by shitheads (mascara wand and naturally thick lashes) and Haru looks seriously amazing in cute tops and cat-eye makeup (eyeliner, of course).

   (Makoto remains unconvinced that he looks A+ and then some in pretty much any type of clothing, despite vehement reassurances from Haru, so mostly the keep the backless dresses for special occasions at home).

   He has on a pair of plain jet-black jammers, and something stripy and cotton and soft-coloured on top. The wind picks up a bit at the jetty; his hem flutters, but Makoto grips his hand tighter, so obviously, this is going to be a good day.

-

   It’s a hot day in May, almost tripping into June, and everyone is down for some fun in the sun and spray. The ferry picks up a bit of speed, the wind retaliates in a similar manner, and the shuddering of an engine working extremely hard is just pleasant background noise, same with the chatter of the people around them, and the click-click-click staccato of Makoto taking a hundred and one pictures of the murky river, the other tourists, the cliffs, Haru, the boat, and sometimes even himself.

   Buddha is still up ahead, and Makoto might be playing a dangerous game with regards to his phone memory, but he’s Prepared. Observe, if you will, the 16 GB SD card he’d bought in preparation for the Panda Centre visit and half used up.

   In his pocket there’s another brand new SD card, and that one is to give him peace of mind so that he can just dra-a-a-a-a-ag Haru close and take 5 selfies all in a row.

   When he hands his phone over to Haru for inspection, Haru has to do battle with himself not to laugh at how the 5 frames provide an excellent basis for a gif of Makoto blinking rapidly, while Haru is an unmoving statue staring at the camera, peace sign up, stoic as stone.

   “You got a good one,” he murmurs, already sending to himself the one with Makoto’s eyes half-closed mid-blink, looking like he’s about to doze off where he stood.

   “They’re all good ones!” Makoto enthuses, limitless affection bound in the shape of a man who is so thankful that the breakneck speed of technology development provides him with affordable storage of memories in cards as small as his thumbnail.

    _You’re_ all good, Haru doesn’t say, because

1) _ Embarrassing _ .

2) Makoto gave himself  _ several _ stomach ulcers in the 2 years he worked at that publishing company for children’s books, dealing with the abuse and doing unpaid overtime and just taking taking taking it all in on himself, not telling Haruka  _ anything _ because Haru was busy training and he wouldn’t want to  _ trouble _ Haru, and even now Makoto has to go in for an endoscope every 4 months for fear of it recurring. After the first incident, where Makoto had clutched his gut and then groaned like he was dying, it had still taken another 6 months before Makoto finally agreed to quit, and that is just-

   Rrrr. Makoto might be all good, but he isn’t always all right. So Haru doesn’t say mopey things, just squeezes his hand and calls him idiot the way you’d croon  _ baaaaby _ at a very sweet cat.

   Makoto talks softly, on and on about the things he’s seen and the food he’s eaten and the video calls he’s managed with his family and his friends, the bits of Sichuanese he’s managed to pick up from the language tutor who doubles up as tour-guide as they walk around town. Haru, in turn, drops data about the heavy metal levels of the Minjiang, the stupid delicious stir-fry Lin’s colleague Hou manages over a simple campfire, and of course, how the water of the Minjiang accepts him when he goes into it.

   “Not bad, but not as good as home.”

   As if it’s ever been anything else.

   The ferry chugs along, slow and patient, and soon enough the excited chattering of the tourists near the front of the boat rises like a called wind.  _ It’s here, it’s here _ !

   There’s a little outcrop, and then there he is, ah.

   What a Giant Buddha.

   The cliff face is cut out, leaving the Buddha in a comfortable little cubbyhole carved into the stone, and he sits there with a mild, slightly put-upon expression, hands on knees as he looks out into the world. Haru spots stairs carved into one side, and sees people on every part of the steps, clambering to get to the top to peer into Buddha’s ear, maybe hoping to see revelations of the mysteries of existing. The trees at the top of the cliff are green-green-green, verdant and set like a particularly elaborate crown, and Haru feels like he can breathe easier just for looking at all this.

   He likes that the Buddha isn’t smiling or looking particularly jolly; he can identify with this slightly-sombre, slightly-testy look. As things are, things aren’t so bad, is the air that permeates from the Buddha, curling up and out as they leave between the little whorls of the punch-perm on his head. There are people by his feet; there are people near his ear; there are people in the water, looking up and looking amazed. What a presence!

   Makoto is next to him, taking lots of pictures of every part of the giant carving, before tugging Haru so that they both put their backs! 

   To Buddha!

   So that they may indulge in another series of selfies, Makoto leaning heavily against the railing, knees bent and thighs shaking so he can get all 3 of them into shot. Haru obligingly does the same, putting his weight on the railing, and feels it give way a little several times over as everyone flocks to this side to take pictures.

   Makoto has now taken to kneeling in front of Haru, taking a picture of Haru and Buddha, these tremendously Cool men, side by side. Haru gets jostled a bit as people hustle to get the best spot, tinny music and a soft voice explaining the history of the Buddha over the speakers. Haru gets a shoulder to the shoulder, but he’s feeling quite calm today.

   Got a religious experience wrapped up in a thin cotton shirt and extremely cute forest green shorts trying to take inventive pictures of him; life is good.

   So he doesn’t shove back, just humours Makoto’s request to look here and look there, and it’s while he’s looking everywhere that It happens.

   What a way to ruin his holiday, Haru thinks mildly, as an older gentleman leaning far too far over the guard rail to take the Perfect Shot loses his balance and topples off the upper deck of the ferry, into the muddy waters below. He goes down with much ado, shouting and flailing, hits the water  _ all wrong _ , heavy and with his back, and his companions on board don’t stop with the screaming.

   Haru looks on dispassionately; the current isn’t too strong, and the boat is stationary. The water is pretty silty, but there aren’t any crocodiles to be worried about. The entry was terrible, yeah, but even if they are on the upper deck the distance to the water isn’t that far. He hears frantic orders being shouted over the loudspeaker in the same rolling twang that Lin and Hou have; 2 flotation rings have already been tossed out roughly to where the man has gone down, and Haru watches on with mild interest.

   He knows the Minjiang; she is not attacking.

   Doesn’t mean the man who went down knew this; he still hasn’t resurfaced, and despite the fact that 4 crew members now have leaped into the water, they still can’t find him.

   A few more people have arbitrarily jumped into the river too; well-meaning passengers, looks like, but the heavy, steady flow is taking them away and Haru is amazed at the misguided heroics of some people. The crew are desperately trying to find the man, while urging people to stay on board. Any further interference would just make this worse-

   Haru barely grabs Makoto by the collar in time.

   “It’s okay, Haru!” Makoto shouts, struggling to pull off his shirt. “I’m bigger and I’m not tired out from fieldwork and he’s probably just dazed and his muscles locked up and I know what to do-“

   No, thinks Haru. You know how to be, but not what to do to help, someone drowning. He can feel Makoto trembling in his grip, but he also knows the man doesn’t notice it in himself (Mako-chan you are not all right).

   The sky is clear, the sun is shining, the water is anything but tempestuous, but Haru wanders if this is the line of thinking that went down that night at the training camp all those years ago.

   The one where Makoto (almost) died and came back; is the man planning to do a repeat performance? This is not the ideal cycle of reincarnation, Buddha would surely insist.

   Aha, as if Haru would take this lying down. Unconscious, Haru had still woken up and gone for Makoto. Awake and aware, Haru will keep Makoto safe if it kills him (if it kills all of them, if necessary, let’s be all the way honest now).

   “Makoto,” he barks out, unusually stern. “Stop.”

   “But he still hasn’t come up yet!” Makoto is struggling in earnest now, desperately, always desperately trying to help.

   Haru makes eye contact, sort of, with the Giant Buddha of Leshan. Telepathy only works with Makoto, so he’s not sure what cosmic message is being transmitted here, but it’s probably somewhere along the lines of Take Care Of Things That Deserve To Be Cared For.

   He doesn’t disagree.

   “Stop, Makoto,” he orders again, putting force into hauling Makoto back, away from the rails and his impossible sense of duty. The momentum throws him back a little, and gives Haru enough of a swing for him to divest himself of the top and the brightly-colored fish-themed sneakers he loves the hell out of. “Stay,” Haru says imperiously, looking dear Mako-chan in the eyes, “please?” he asks, leaning in for a quick peck on the nose.

   Makoto is lost for words, and Haru doesn’t need any. He turns back and climbs up on the railing, once again seeing Buddha full in the face.

   Help a man on holiday out, Haru thinks at the grand figure. He doesn’t know if he’s referring to himself or the drowning man, but as soon as the thought’s thought out he’s diving into the water, slicing right through, deep into the murk.

   He’s learned the little peccadilloes of the Minjiang; how she pulls and pushes, how she obscures then brings clarity. He goes where she leads, and wonders what would happen if his affinity with water is as one-sided as some people have always thought.

   What if, he thinks as he comes up for air before diving back down again, he doesn’t really understand the water?

   Another breath, and he’s drifting further from the boat; what if his initial apathy and slow response kills this stranger?

   What if Makoto is disappointed in him? Breathe.

   What if Makoto jumps in behind him-

   A flailing limb catches a flailing limb (yes!), and Haru hauls the man up to the surface.

   And then, well. He’s had practice with this. He swiftly swims back towards the boat, keeping the man’s head above water. He had carried Makoto’s limp body on his skinny adolescent shoulders, he can bench press this old guy no problem. Within reach of the boat, Haru reaches out, gripping onto the edge as anxious hands immediately pull up the man from his back, onto the boat and into the waiting arms of a group of 4 doctors from Harbin that are here on holiday. Haru is forgotten for now, as first aid is administered, and he stays perched on the side of the boat, catching his breath and lazily kicking out his legs, working out a bit of a cramp.

   His hair is in his eyes, so he closes them and just takes slooooooow breaths. In, out, in, out, wait for the splutter of a man come back to life, aha, there it is, along with the cheers of the people onboard, in, out, in-

   His bangs are very gently swept away from his face, and when Haru blinks his eyes open again, ah.

   What a goddamn sight. He has Ascended, surely.

   Haru reaches out to grasp Makoto’s hand, easily pulled back on-board and into a tight, tight hug. “Good job, Haru-chan,” is breathed into his damp hair, and Haru squeezes right back, nodding into a shoulder. He's sure Makoto would've done a goo job too; he's glad he doesn't have to find out. The boat is moving now, chugging back to shore and to a waiting ambulance, and Haru sees Buddha out the corner of his eyes, just before the cliff takes him back.

   He can’t help himself; he flashes the Big Guy a thumbs up. Under your benevolent (?) thousand yard stare, Makoto didn’t have to plunge headfirst into the murky unknown, the drowned man became the saved man and has hopefully learned the importance of respecting guard rails, and Haru’s long-awaited date with Makoto didn’t get ruined to high heaven.

   Haru presses a kiss to Makoto’s jaw while nobody is looking, and wonders what happened to his nice blouse. Then he nips at Makoto’s ear, and very, very clearly describes all the slow, luxurious,  _ filthy _ things he intends to do to Makoto as soon as they hit dry land, and hey, Makoto’s back to shaking like a leaf in his hold again, but this time, it’s all good.

   He’s got Enlightenment, broad shoulders and all pressed up right against him. Haru, he’s putting this into their Top 3 best dates ever (the gentleman vomiting water, smothered in jackets from concerned onlookers shares a similar sentiment with Haruka, namely;

What a time to be alive).

**Author's Note:**

> The extremely tardy follow-up to Beijing c: Where they go next is a crapshoot, but what isn't a mystery is that they'll go together because goddamn these cute bastards (arghhhhh). Written for a friend, in the hopes of cheering her up!!! 
> 
> Pls enjoy (and then tell me about it).


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